


something wrong and beautiful

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Possession, post-Eventide mission, sharing a moment with a beautiful man, very biref mentions of lemfero and hellahadrian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 06:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14182887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Oh, is it time already?Or, history repeating, like a shadow of what has been, what could have been, what might be again.





	something wrong and beautiful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madelinestarr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinestarr/gifts).



> Happy birthmonth maddie.
> 
> title from 'pariah king' by the shins

Hadrian hovered behind Lem, staying slightly hidden from Lem’s view by the mast of the ship. The mask they’d found in the tower at Eventide hung loosely from Lem’s fingers as he stared out to sea, the glint of sunlight drawing Hadrian’s eye to it. The sunlight bounced off it as the ship rolled with the waves, sending a shaft of sunlight by Hadrian’s feet before it slid back toward Lem.

 

Hadrian followed it, each step just outside of the reflected sunlight, until he was standing beside Lem. Lem glanced at him. Hadrian could see the scar that the mask left on his face, scabbed over and painful-looking. He suppressed a wince, turning his gaze back to the water to match Lem’s.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the reflected sunlight of the mask shining down on the space between them.

 

Hadrian took a deep breath. “How are you feeling, after… How are you feeling?”

 

“Fine,” said Lem, not looking away from the water. He paused. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Fine,” said Hadrian.

 

His gaze dropped to the mask. It’s blank gaze looked back up at him. Hadrian swallowed, pulling his eyes back to the sea. He could still feel the eyes of the mask on him, as though it were a living being.

 

“Lem can I--” Hadrian glanced over his shoulder at Calhoun’s crew. “Can we talk?”

 

Lem looked at him, frowning. “I thought that’s what we were doing?”

 

“No I mean,” Hadrian glanced over his shoulder again, “privately.”

 

Lem looked pointedly over his shoulder, to where the crew is working. “Um. Sure. We  _ could  _ go to… well, we could go to my cabin. I think Fero’s sulking in there at the moment, but it  _ is  _ more private than here.”

 

“Mine is closer,” said Hadrian, “plus, I’m not sharing with anybody.”

 

Lem nodded, pushing himself away from the railing. Hadrian led him down below deck. The reflected light of the mask flashes on the wall in front of them for a moment before Lem stepped downstairs fully, temporarily lighting their path in the gloom.

 

Hadrian’s cabin was at the end of the hall. He unlocked the door, sweeping his eyes over the room to check for any evil presence before he entered. The only thing he sensed was the residual energy from Hella’s jacket, hanging from the back of the chair where she’d left it behind.

 

It, perhaps, wasn’t  _ entirely _ truthful to say that he’d never shared his cabin with anyone over the course of their journey, but Lem didn’t need to know about that.

 

Hadrian stripped off his own jacket, dropping it neatly over Hella’s. If Lem noticed, he made no outward indication, his hand gripping the mask tighter. He held it a little higher, catching the light coming in from Hadrian’s window.

 

“I take it that you wanted to talk about this?”

 

“Yes, I…” Hadrian trailed off, unsure. “The man we saw. I think he saw us too.”

 

“Do you think he might be dangerous?”

 

“I… don’t know,” said Hadrian, “I’ve never seen him before.”

 

“Neither have I,” said Lem, “Although if he goes around possessing people I don’t know that I like him all that much.”

 

Hadrian snorted. He looked down at the mask in Lem’s hands. It’s blank eyes looked back  up at him.

 

“What are you going to do with it, when we get back?”

 

Lem shrugged. “I’m not sure. The Archives might like it, but-- well. Probably best for me not to contact them right now.” He paused. “What are you going to do with the crown?”

 

“Give it to the church,” said Hadrian, “it feels like the right thing to do.”

 

“Does it?” said Lem, “It did possess you.”

 

“That’s exactly why I should give it to the church,” said Hadrian, “so it can’t be used to harm anyone else. Besides, as long as we keep the two items separated, things should be okay, right?”

 

Lem nodded. “Right.” He bit his lip. “Where are you keeping it right now?”

 

Hadrian reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. “Right here.”

 

“Wait,” said Lem, “maybe you shouldn’t--”

 

As soon as Hadrian’s fingers wrapped around the crown, he felt a tingling warmth spread up his arm. He pulled out the crown, looking down at it in his hands. The pull of it was there, like it had been in the tower, moving his feet towards Lem.

 

Lem still held the mask in front of him, his grip white-knuckled. He bit his lip, looking from the crown to Hadrian’s face.

 

“Don’t,” said Lem.

 

His voice echoed in Hadrian’s head, the tone of it different to Lem’s voice, calling to mind winter furs and firelight over old books filled with unfamiliar writing. He tightened his grip on the crown.

 

“I’m not--” he swallowed. “I’m not going to, I just--” he swallowed again, trying to find the words for the feeling in his chest. “I needed you to see it again. It’s… It feels important.”

 

He took another step towards Lem, and Lem copied his motion, bringing them within arm’s reach of one another. The warmth flowing through him grew hotter, almost painful. Lem’s hands shook, the motion of it making the mask shine in the low light, mesmerising.

 

Lem inhaled sharply. “Hadrian--”

 

Hadrian looked back up at Lem’s face. Lem’s cheeks were flushed a deep green and he swallowed hard, Hadrian’s eyes following the movement. He could feel the warmth from the crown sinking further into his body, pooling in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Hadrian,” said Lem again, voice softer.

 

Hadrian reached out with his free hand and laid it over Lem’s, where he was gripping the mask. He gasped, the heat in his stomaching spiking, like he was trapped in flames. He looked up at Lem, and Lem suddenly gripped his hand. The heat in Hadrian rolled, moving him upwards and forwards until his lips met Lem’s.

 

Lem returned his kiss hungrily, his arms wrapping around Hadrian to pull their bodies together, the motion of the ship helping to grind their hips together. Hadrian gasped into Lem’s mouth, clutching at the back of Lem’s shirt. 

 

He could feel the warmth of the mask pressed against his back. He shuddered, pulling back so he could go to his knees in front of Lem, letting go of the crown so that he could unfasten Lem’s trousers. Lem’s nails scratched lightly along his scalp, guiding his head forward to take Lem’s length into his mouth. Hadrian moaned, hearing the sound echoed from Lem above him and the strange not-Lem tone in his head.

 

Hadrian worked fast and sloppy, a tight feeling in his chest whenever Lem’s hand pressed lightly against his scalp, guiding him.

 

“Oh,” said Lem breathily, his voice like the tone in Hadrian’s head, “Oh, yes, you always did like that.”

 

It didn’t make any sense, and yet, at the same time, the rightness of it settled in Hadrian’s chest. When he flicked his eyes upwards, he could have sworn that for a moment he saw golden blonde hair spilling over Lem’s shoulders. And then he blinked, and above him was Lem, flushed and biting his lip, muffling the whines escaping him.

 

_ He never used to force himself to be quiet _ , whispered a voice in Hadrian’s mind. Hadrian almost choked, digging his fingers into Lem’s thighs to steady himself as visions flickered in his mind (they felt like memories, hazy and warm, but they couldn’t be, he’d never--). They slipped away from him as Lem pressed the mask against Hadrian’s shoulder, thighs trembling.

 

“Hadrian--” said Lem, his voice ragged but more like himself that before, “Hadrian-- I’m--”

 

Hadrian drew back before swallowing Lem deep, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked. Lem let go of the back of Hadrian’s head, pressing his free hand to his mouth to muffle his moan as he came. Hadrian swallowed as much as he could, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before he leant back towards Lem, cleaning him delicately with his tongue as Lem shuddered, over sensitive.

 

_ My prince, my prince, my prince _ , echoed the voice in Hadrian’s head. It sounded a little like his own, the warmth of it familiar even while the words were not.

 

Lem put a hand on Hadrian’s cheek, tilting his face up towards him. Hadrian’s breath hitched in his throat, his hands curling by his sides as he waited. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest, his body growing warmer with every beat.

 

Lem slid his hand under Hadrian’s chin, pressing until Hadrian rose to stand in front of him. He rested his hand on Hadrian’s chest, just below his heart. The skin under his hand throbbed, like the ache of an old wound. He saw the mask twitch as Lem tightened his grip.

 

“Undress,” said Lem.

 

Hadrian’s hands shook as he complied, stumbling as he stripped off his clothes. Lem reclined back on the bed, the mask still clutched in his hand as he watched. He nodded to the space on the bed beside him and Hadrian lay down, neck stretched so he could keep his gaze on Lem.

 

Lem trailed a hand lazily down Hadrian’s chest, smirking as Hadrian gasped and clutched at the sheets under him. He stopped short of touching Hadrian’s length, his fingers hovering for a moment before sliding back up Hadrian’s chest. Hadrian whined, his hip arching up into empty air.

 

Lem chuckled, the sound of it so unlike Lem and yet so maddeningly familiar. Hadrian’s scrambled to place it, his thoughts scattered in the hazy warmth that lay over his mind.

 

“Show me,” said Lem.

 

Hadrian obeyed, wrapping a hand around himself and biting his lip sharply to muffle his gasp of relief at the sensation. His body felt as though it was burning under the heat of Lem’s gaze, the metal glowing gold against the mundane fabric of his shirt.

 

Lem moderated his pace, sucking a bruise onto his neck when he slowed or pinching his nipple when he went too fast. Hadrian moaned, unfamiliar words spilling from his lips, words about times long past in a forest or an old house or in the sweltering heat of a city, words that skittered away when he tried to remember them. 

 

Lem’s hand gripped the mask tighter, his free hand pushing at the fabric of his trousers to free himself, matching his hand’s pace to Hadrian’s. Hadrian moaned, his body trembling as he fought to keep himself from tipping over the edge, wanting to obey Lem’s commands, wanting to stay in the heat of his gaze forever.

 

He felt the hot press of metal against his skin as Lem’s grip slipped, letting the mask fall between them. The heat of it was gentle, more like a patch of sunlight than a flame, but it was still too much, making him spill into his hand and onto his stomach, a ragged moan tearing from his throat. Lem followed soon after, his hips arching off the bed and his face pressing hotly into Hadrian’s shoulder.

 

They lay panting together for a long minute, the mask digging into Hadrian’s hip.

 

Lem cleared his throat. “So. Um. That was, um. Unusual?”

 

Hadrian hummed, resisting the urge to cover his face.

 

“Do you think it was,” Lem’s voice faltered for a moment, “to do with the possession?”

 

“Yes,” said Hadrian quickly, “definitely.”

 

“Right,” said Lem.

 

“Clearly these objects are very dangerous,” said Hadrian, “We must keep them apart at all times, and not let them fall into the wrong hands.”

 

“Right,” said Lem again, “Right. Yes. Absolutely.” He cleared his throat. “Right. Well. I’m just going to, um. Go. Get the mask away from the crown. Seems like the best idea.”

 

Hadrian nodded, trying to will away the heat in his cheeks. He kept his eyes fixed on the roof as Lem stood up, fixing his clothes for a moment.

 

“I’ll, um,” said Lem, “I’ll see you later?”

 

“Sure,” said Hadrian, “Yep.”

 

Lem closed the door carefully behind him. Hadrian could feel the heat of the room leave with him, following the mask like a trail of smoke. He let out a long, shaky breath, almost rubbing a hand over his face before he remembered the mess. He made a face at the ceiling, leaning over carefully to find a cloth.

 

The crown glinted in the low light of the window.

 

Hadrian dropped his shirt over it. Clearly, it was a  _ very _ dangerous object. He put the crown at the bottom of his pack, careful not to touch it.

 

The church would have much to say about it, he was sure.

 

Well.

 

Not that the church would be getting the full story. Some things were personal.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
